


An Evergreen Christmas

by FunkyinFishnet



Series: Violet Nights [10]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Christmas, F/M, Family, M/M, Male Slash, Relationship(s), Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is far too noble, thinking that it’d be safest for Bilbo if they didn’t spend as much time together. Thorin’s family, and Bilbo’s, make sure that he realises how stupid he’s being, just in time for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

“Thorin.”

 

 

Dis was a forbidding figure in his office doorway. She looked at him like she could see right into his thoughts. Thorin didn't do more than glance up at her briefly, but he did pause in his typing.

 

 

“Don't do it.”

 

 

Thorin didn't reply, though his hands did tense for a moment before he got back to work.

 

 

*

 

 

“Christmas.”

 

 

Thorin glanced up from the paperwork that he'd brought with him to work on at Violet Nights and found Bilbo staring pensively at the ceiling. Even with Bilbo's expression twisting into something like a frown, Thorin found it very difficult to tear his gaze away from Violet Night's proprietor. Bilbo caused something warm to spring through his veins, it was a feeling that he was still getting used to. He waited for Bilbo to continue.

 

 

“Do you do anything special at Erebor? I don’t know, a theme night?”

 

 

Thorin’s mouth twitched with amusement. “A theme night?”

 

 

“Every other club and pub seems to. You can’t move for fake snow out there, Fal keeps shedding it on my carpet.”

 

 

Thorin remembered huge family dinners, his mother in charge of the turkey and her special homemade stuffing, his dad pouring drinks and laughing, the bright colours and jewels, the happiness. Frerin, always smiling, always shining. It was all a long time ago.

 

 

He shook his head, not giving voice to the old pain. What was the point? “There’s a few decorations. Fili and Kili are in charge of them this year.”

 

 

Bilbo chuckled. “You’ll probably regret that.”

 

 

Thorin thought of celebrations past and the chaos that his nephews could conjure up just by holding hands. “Probably.”

 

 

Bilbo nodded and dropped his gaze from the ceiling to Thorin. He looked thoughtful, like he was weighing up what to say, how far to push. It made Thorin’s jaw tense; he made Bilbo cautious and careful. He appreciated Bilbo’s attitude, that he didn’t try to barge through and force Thorin to talk. He didn't act as though Thorin was fragile either, likely to break at the slightest word. There were many things to appreciate about Bilbo, which was why Thorin was going to ignore his sister's words and do what he needed to in order to keep Bilbo safe.

 

 

*

 

 

Thorin began by not going to Violet Nights so often, citing work commitments. Bilbo understood of course and was busy anyway, preparing the café’s festive menu – there was peppermint tea and cinnamon toast, Hannukah pastries and Christmas tree cookies. Violet Nights was doing good business, such good business that Bilbo had hired more staff. It was the next logical step, and something he did to prevent his mother from sending along her own applicants to help him out. Thorin had smiled when Bilbo had ranted about his mother's behaviour, Belladonna had already emailed Thorin with the details along with an instruction that he should 'make sure my son eats properly, he's all-baking-no-personal-sustenance when he's upset with me. It'll pass.'

 

 

Bilbo's friend Millie started looking after Violet Night's financials, poring over Bilbo's notebooks and receipts; apparently she had training and enthusiasm. Then Elrond's twin sons Elladan and Elrohir began working behind the counter, sometimes in the evenings, sometimes in the mornings but always together. Thorin found their stillness and almost-unblinking gazes unnerving. They made the hairs on his arms stand up, and reminded him far too much of a certain family that he'd had particularly unpleasant dealings with in the past – Thranduil still refused to have anything to do with Erebor.

 

 

Still, Bilbo trusted and liked Elladan and Elrohir and Thorin had actually seen them smile in Bilbo's presence, something that they never seemed to do otherwise. They turned orders around quickly and according to Bilbo, the customers liked them. The customers certainly liked flirting with the twins; they were given as many phone numbers as Kili collected on an average Erebor night. The twins always calmly dropped the slips of paper into the recycling bin at the end of their shift. Like Kili, they seemed to have no interest in anyone who offered themselves, though apparently not for the same reason.

 

 

They were extremely difficult to puzzle out. All Bifur's research turned up were the public facts – Elrond's sons, their mother had died years before, they had a sister and a foster brother and were remarkably free of public scandal considering how well-known their family was. They seemed decent-enough people on the surface and beneath it, but something about them still rankled, at least in Thorin's eyes. Maybe it was the way they moved, not exactly like dancers, but like nothing could touch them. As immaculate as they appeared, Thorin was sure that the twins would handle any sort of physical sort of confrontation with the same kind of grace. They would probably come out of it completely untouched.

 

 

“Smaug won't do anything while Elladan and Elrohir are here,” Bilbo commented one night to Thorin's surprise. “It's what you're worried about, isn't it?”

 

 

Thorin nodded, it was one of his worries. Bilbo continued. “They're in the papers a lot so if anything happened to them, even a threat, I'm sure Elrond would make a point of letting the public and media know how he felt about that and who he thought was behind it.”

 

 

It was a fair assumption, Elrond dealt with publicity with the same sort of ease that Dis did. Thorin had never had that skill. It was good to know though, that Bilbo had that sort of clever covert protection – Smaug loathed bad publicity. It made Thorin's plan a lot easier to carry out.

 

 

It didn't matter that it hurt Thorin to think about those plans; he'd been dealing with pain his whole life. He wasn't supposed to have pleasure long-term. All that mattered was that his family was safe and that Bilbo was too. Impulsively, he reached, slowly, and interlinked his fingers with Bilbo's. Bilbo's smile was equally slow and ten times as warm.

 

 

The pain inside Thorin only increased. It didn't matter. Not at all.

 

 

*

 

 

The next time that Dis was in his office she looked as though she was thinking of punching him hard. It wouldn't be the first time; she often claimed that thumping Thorin was the only way to really get through to him. There was a new tattoo circling her wrist, it looked like poetry. She refused to let Thorin read it.

 

 

“Don't be a bigger idiot than you already are,” she hissed, eyes flashing and one fist clenched at her hip. “Because I will know, Thorin, and I'll make sure that he does too.”

 

 

Thorin pressed his lips together hard. He kept on typing.

 

 

*

 

 

Thorin didn't tell Bilbo how the Durins celebrated Christmas, he didn't invite him. Fili and Kili looked at their uncle narrow-eyed as they whispered together. They looked so comfortable, like a perfect fit, but it was still too dangerous for them to be so together. Smaug could use that relationship so easily. Dis knew that, of course she did, but she didn't do anything about it.

 

 

“They're happy,” she'd retorted when Thorin had most recently brought it up. “And that happiness, that love, is going to make them fight harder than hell for each other. You and Smaug see something to exploit, but I see the weapon it can be.”

 

 

Dis saw what she wanted to see. Thorin saw what could happen and did all that he could to prevent it. None of his family should suffer like he did, but Bifur's wife had been attacked, Fili and Kili were regularly harassed, and Bilbo's café was visited by Smaug's men. It couldn't happen again, Thorin wouldn't let it.

 

 

Bilbo could tell that something was wrong. He looked at Thorin with shrewd eyes and asked pointed questions. Thorin could feel his words getting shorter, protective walls coming up, for Bilbo's own good. Bilbo didn't back off. It was incredibly frustrating.

 

 

_Your son won't look after himself_ He texted Belladonna, unafraid to be underhand. _He's going to get hurt here_.

 

 

Belladonna sounded unimpressed and as pointed as her son _His choice._ _You can't control everything, that's my job._

 

 

No help at all.

 

 

*

 

 

Balin was smoking his pipe in Thorin's office, looking far too knowing. Thorin remembered all too well how annoyed Dwalin had been with his brother when Dwalin and Ori’s relationship had just begun and Balin had been extremely smug about the whole thing. Balin did that a lot.

 

 

“I'll kick you out,” Thorin warned his old friend.

 

 

Balin chuckled and tapped his pipe against an ash tray. He looked completely relaxed, but Thorin still braced himself. Balin was never afraid to voice his opinions, which was useful most of the time, except when he was aiming at Thorin.

 

 

“Don't be foolish,” Balin said, the burr of his accent giving the words a different sort of life. “Don't push him before he can jump. He knows his own mind.”

 

 

Thorin glowered but Balin stared back impassively, his pipe smoke swirling above him. Thorin shook his head.

 

 

“Smaug knows and Bilbo could have been seriously...I can't do that to him.”

 

 

Balin cracked a smile. “If you think Smaug will get past that mother of Bilbo's, well...”

 

 

“They shouldn't have to worry, he's not a Durin.”

 

 

“No,” Balin's voice was sharp now and his eyes matched it. “He chose this, just as Florella and Angelique did. So why shouldn't he get the same grace?”

 

 

_Because Smaug will take an exhaustive vicious delight in torturing me through Bilbo_ Thorin wanted to say. _Because Smaug probably has a lot planned for Bilbo and his family and Violet Nights._ He didn't say anything though, just clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened.

 

 

“Besides, even if you did chase him off, do you really think that Smaug would leave him be?”

 

 

A cold lump dropped in Thorin's stomach. Of course not. Of course Smaug wouldn't stop there, why would he? He choked out a bitter laugh.

 

 

“So I've condemned him already. Wonderful.”

 

 

Balin tapped his pipe against the ashtray again and sighed a little, as though Thorin was being particularly trying. “Lad, you've got to stop thinking that it's your job to protect us all. We choose to stay here; you don't think we know it'd be easier if we left? Split the group? Kili and Fili would be safer abroad somewhere, safer still if they were apart. Bombur could take his family far away, Gloin could do the same. But we stay, because this is our home. What's safe compared to that?”

 

 

He settled back in his chair and used the office phone to call for a cup of tea, nice and strong with a couple of sugars please. His fingers were smudged with pipe ash and he looked perfectly content. How could he be?

 

 

Thorin suddenly yearned for soft comfortable sofas, the shine of Bilbo's fair curls under dim cosy lighting, and the smell of well-steeped tea.

 

 

*

 

 

“You've got to stop, Thorin.”

 

 

Bilbo sounded firm with a hint of desperation, which got Thorin's attention. Bilbo was wearing a checked shirt under a dark sweater. He looked very good, he also looking extremely annoyed, possibly even angry. No doubt somewhere Balin was looking particularly smug. Belladonna too probably.

 

 

Thorin opened his mouth to speak but Bilbo shook his head. “Do you know I’ve received a lot of festive invites? Most of them from Durins? Bofur and Bombur invited me to their family’s Hanukah meal, Kili and Fili want to shout me dinner at the Upset Applecart, even Dwalin’s talked about a Christmas drink. I know something’s made you batten everything down more than usual. Is it this time of year? Look, I won’t push but if you’re not willing to even give a little, then you’re being even more impossible than Dis claims is normal.”

 

 

Thorin had reached the exact point that he’d been striving for – for Bilbo to leave Thorin behind and get himself somewhere much safer. Only it didn’t look like Bilbo was going to abandon all Durins and despite Thorin’s unofficial role as head of the family, they weren’t going to follow his lead on this. They’d made themselves pretty clear on that. Kili and Fili had been refusing to speak to him for a week now, still somehow doing their Erebor jobs with a great deal of professionalism. Thorin’s stares from his office had done nothing to dent their resolve.

 

 

Bilbo was staring at him still, clearly prepared to wait him out for an answer. Bilbo was an exceptionally patient man; Thorin had always admired that about him. And he knew deep down that, for everything Bilbo had been through because of the Durins, Thorin owed him some kind of explanation, particularly before his nephews offered their version of events.

 

 

“Smaug.”

 

 

“Smaug,” Bilbo echoed, not sounding especially surprised.

 

 

He took a seat, the space between them feeling like an ocean, and turned towards Thorin expectantly.

 

 

“Has he done anything recently? Nothing’s happened here, not that I know of anyway. Mum hasn’t heard anything either and if anyone would know…”

 

 

Thorin shook his head. “Once was enough and I can't...”

 

 

His words broke off, he couldn't form what he wanted to say, he couldn't talk about all the pain that still stung in his heart and head, that still shaped his thoughts and actions and his family's lives too, all thanks to Smaug. He couldn't talk about...

 

 

There was a warm weight on his arm. Bilbo had moved closer and had reached for him with comforting calm fingers. His anger had disappeared, but the frustration was still there, all too obvious. Thorin had caused that, better that than more of Smaug's threats; more hints that Bilbo was being watched. But Balin was right; Thorin pulling away wouldn't stop Smaug and Bilbo wouldn't be going anywhere anyway.

 

 

“You won't close Violet Nights.”

 

 

It was a statement rather than a question and Bilbo smiled fondly, his thumb stroking Thorin's arm. For a moment, he looked just like Belladonna.

 

 

“Violet Nights has done a lot more than just give me a job that I actually like, it's a safe place. Some of the stories I've heard...people feel that they can be that honest here.”

 

 

Bilbo smiled. There was a determination in his expression that made something stir in Thorin.

 

 

“I'm not going to lie, Thorin, the night that Smaug's men came here was, well, terrifying, and no, I'm not looking forward to it happening again, I'm not like Bifur or Dwalin or Kili and Fili. But I like doing this, I like what Violet Nights does. I won't be pushed out.”

 

 

He was getting animated now, animated and firm and the light in his eyes was so strong, Thorin found himself unable to argue back, to walk out as he should. Balin's recent words were echoed in his ears, a reminder that wouldn't leave him alone.

 

 

Bilbo continued “What you've all been through, it's hell frankly, but that's the part that you keep forgetting – you're all going through it, together. I'm not struggling alone here, I've got Mum and Dad and Dis and too many Durins to count, and Millie and the twins are well aware of the risk.”

 

 

Thorin looked at him sharply but Bilbo didn't look all that sorry. “They're working here, Thorin. I couldn't let them do that without warning them of the possible dangers. It's only fair. So Elrond probably knows too and between him and Mum, I feel, well, something approaching safe. And that's...that's more than enough for me.”

 

 

His hand travelled up Thorin's arm to squeeze Thorin's hand, his voice quiet and sure, not even a bit pleading. “You're not alone here, Thorin, you never have been, and I really don't think that's going to change. It's not the Durin way, or the Baggins one.”

 

 

Bilbo let the silence unfold around them and began shuffling through the supply receipts that Millie had compiled for him. Bilbo was surrounded by good people, good people who apparently knew the risk of having any contact with Thorin and the rest of the Durins. Like Bilbo, they weren't going to back off.

 

 

Thorin breathed in the smell of warm recent baking, of fresh tea and coffee, of Bilbo himself – smells that had come to mean a lot. Thorin could force himself to live without them, but he really didn't want to.

 

 

He should tell Bilbo that, he should tell Bilbo that he was practically one of them now, a Durin, just like Florella and Angelique were. He should tell Bilbo his fears for the family, for the children, for everybody who came into contact with the Durins, and how those fears had been part of him for so long now, that he was almost certain he couldn't live any other way. He should tell Bilbo so many things.

 

 

Thorin opened his mouth. “There's a dinner on Christmas Eve, at Dis's flat this year. You should come.”

 

 

Bilbo smiled, the expression full of a relieved happy emotion that made Thorin's heart shift. Bilbo slid closer; it was possible that he had the patience of several saints and the stubbornness of a Durin, no wonder Dis liked him so much.

 

 

No wonder Thorin did too.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

On Christmas Eve, Dis's flat was in its usual state of chaos. Bombur was in the kitchen, singing loudly in harmony with his wife who was bouncing a baby on her hip and making gravy. Kili and Fili were setting the table, arguing good-naturedly about a seating plan, and Bofur was talking on the phone to somebody, the others would arrive eventually.

 

 

Bilbo....Bilbo fitted in seamlessly. He presented Bofur with a packet of pastries, which made Bofur laugh, and then went to talk to Bombur and Angelique, holding the baby for a while without much nervousness at all. He looked very interested in what was being cooked and only rolled his eyes when Kili finally finished his cutlery duties and threw his arms (and one leg) around Bilbo.

 

 

Fili just laughed, his leather jacket slung over a nearby chair, his Henley unbuttoned at the neck and the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. There was something new braided into his hair, a dark purple thread, tied off with a small silver disk. He showed it to Bilbo who looked a little touched and hugged Fili briefly, Kili tangled up between the two of them. When they parted, Kili kissed Bilbo's cheek, making Bilbo smile.

 

 

The room was filled with the smell of roasting turkey and the two kinds of homemade stuffing that Angelique always prepared. His family was there, safe and well, but Thorin only had eyes for Bilbo.

 

 

Belladonna sent him a text. _Happy Christmas. Stop frowning._

Thorin cracked a smile; he and Bilbo would be going to Belladonna and Bungo's house for New Year's Eve lunch. She'd already given them a bag of wrapped Christmas presents, winking when she'd handed them over. The moment had reminded Thorin far too much of Dis.

 

 

Bifur and Florella arrived, Florella clutching a bottle of good wine in each hand, Bifur chattering happily, jabbing at his phone. Bilbo nodded; clearly concentrating hard on trying to understand Bifur and getting a few words right if Bifur's impressed gestures were anything to go by.

 

 

Bilbo had found a place with the Durins, not just with Thorin. It was terrifying, but it was...it was good too. Something important was settling in Thorin's chest, something cautious but right. He pressed a fist to his heart. Terrifying.

 

 

He was sure that if he turned around, he'd find Balin sat in an armchair, filling his pipe and smiling, knowingly. So Thorin pointedly did not turn around, and ignored a very irritating chuckle.

 

 

*

 

 

“I really don't think I'm going to be able to eat ever again.”

 

 

Thorin smiled, the Durin Christmas Eve meal was always enormous, enough to leave them all with plenty of cold turkey for sandwiches the next day. Kili and Fili had taken a huge Tupperware box of leftovers; they had plans for turkey curry. They'd see their mother briefly on Christmas Day, but they were sensible – Smaug liked spoiling special days. One Hanukah, Bombur had gotten a series of photographs in the mail, photographs of his wife and children going about their day. Bofur had nearly put his hand through a wall he was so angry.

 

 

“Is it like that every year?”

 

 

Bilbo's question tugged Thorin away from unpleasant memories. He smiled a little, reams of Christmas images flying behind his eyes. In many of them, Frerin was smiling and laughing, raising a toast to family. Frerin.

 

 

“It is.”

 

 

Bilbo knocked an elbow gently to Thorin's. “Well, thanks for inviting me.”

 

 

Thorin nodded slowly. “You're welcome.”

 

 

They walked close in the crisp cool air, their arms touching. Bilbo was humming something thoughtfully, a sort of private smile on his face, a private smile that he was letting Thorin see. That warm good feeling inside Thorin was heating up again. Bilbo was brave, braver than Thorin.

 

 

Thorin cleared his throat. “Are you...busy tomorrow?”

 

 

Bilbo's smile increased but he didn't mock or tease. Instead he shrugged a little. “Mum's going to see family, taking Dad with her of course. Violet Nights will be closed. I was thinking of doing a pub trip at some point, so no, nothing really planned. You?”

 

 

Thorin shook his head slowly. He was always extra wary over Christmas. Erebor was closed, so was the Dragon's Den, but that didn't mean that Smaug wasn't planning and circling them. Doing something new was a good idea; Thorin glanced quickly at Bilbo's smiling expression, a good idea for many reasons.

 

 

He could feel his family behind him, pushing him. Perhaps his grandmother would have done so too; according to the stories that he’d been frequently told, she'd never been afraid to be happy. She hadn't been afraid of much.

 

 

Thorin's pocket buzzed with a phone message. It was probably Belladonna; her timing was as incisive as Dis's. Neither of them had let him forget how wrong they thought he was. God, the idea of the two of them meeting...

 

 

Thorin looked straight ahead and cautiously, for the first time in a very long time, took a big leap. “There's a place not far past the shopping centre, it's quiet and...I walk there a lot, in the winter especially.”

 

 

Bilbo's smile was a beautiful honest thing. “Maybe we could get lunch too? There's a new bread recipe I've been trying out, I think it'd go well with turkey and cold roast potatoes.”

 

 

Thorin's own smile was pleased and quiet. The silence was simmering now, full of possibilities and the tenderness of hope. Thorin wanted to cup his hands around it, to protect it, but safe was far behind them now, behind all of them and it didn't look like Bilbo had much interest in retreating.

 

 

Thorin's hand brushed Bilbo's, then tangled them together. Bilbo squeezed his fingers. Spending time with Bilbo on Christmas Day would be the first time Thorin had spent that festive day with anyone other than family. It was terrifying, but the warmth remained.

 

 

He didn’t have a present for Bilbo. Thorin’s eyebrows knitted together, he should get Bilbo something. He wanted to.

 

 

Kili and Fili had been spitballing ideas for festive gifts throughout the last month. They’d pointedly come up with ideas for Bilbo when Thorin was within earshot – _“a tattoo session at Beorn’s,” “Nothing as complicated as Uncle's back ink though.”_

 

 

Thorin's back-piece had taken a lot of sessions, all those names interspersed with fine-line work. Beorn still claimed that it was one of the best tattoos he’d ever done, there was a framed picture of it in his studio. There was space in the tattoo for Bilbo’s name, perhaps.

 

 

But that was too much of a risk, too permanent, to think about. For now, Thorin would concentrate on the familiar bite of cold air digging into his skin and Bilbo’s hand intertwined with his. Maybe, Thorin could give Bilbo more than silences and cold shoulders for Christmas; maybe for once he could even give him words.

 

 

_-the end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone :)


End file.
